Intervention
by Mr Miracle
Summary: Superman must confront Batman over his addiction to Venom.
1. Chapter 1

Intervention

By: Mr. Miracle

scott-free@superpowers.org

Summary: Superman confronts Batman over his addiction to Venom

Disclaimer: DC Comics and Time/Warner own all the characters; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome!

Batman created by Bob Kane.

Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

World's Finest: Intervention

Chapter One

I received a call at my home about a day ago. At first I thought it my boss, or perhaps one of my sources. I never expected this…

I picked up the phone.

"Clark Kent," I answer.

"Mister Kent, this is Alfred Pennyworth from Wayne Manor," said the voice on the other end of the line.

"Yes Alfred, what can I do for you?"

"He needs you, sir" said Alfred.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"He has an addiction."

What?

An addiction?

That I wasn't expecting.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

What sort of an addiction?

Whatever Bruce is addicted to I knew one thing was certain: Batman was not quite Batman anymore.

Sure, there was still a man in Gotham City that fought evil. But physically, and mentally this man had changed.

Bruce is the most dangerous man alive.

Any change on his part makes me nervous.

I'm Superman.

I'm not supposed to be nervous.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I flew to Gotham City as soon as I got off the phone.

The whole time I worried about whatever Bruce's addiction was.

You could say it was the longest four seconds of my life.

Alfred wouldn't have called me unless this addiction was life threatening. So I've already assumed that it was drugs. But what type of drug?

It couldn't be a narcotic. His millionaire acquaintances couldn't possibly convince the most intelligent man at the party to experiment with heroin. Bruce doesn't even drink at these swanky parties. But for reasons I can't figure out, Bruce has always seemed a little overwhelmed by the metahuman superheroes. Almost like he was a little jealous of our powers. 

Two thoughts enter my mind:

"Has he started using performance enhancers?"

And

"I wonder if he knows we metahumans are jealous of him?"

It was already past nightfall, so I flew right up to the front door of Wayne Manor. Alfred, of course was there to greet me.

"Superman," he answered the door. "Please come inside."

Alfred led me inside to the living room, which was about the size of my apartment.

"It's called Venom, sir."

"Is this some sort of a steroid?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," said Alfred. "Master Bruce had tried to save a little girl from drowning. The strength of the Batman was simply not enough to save the poor girl."

"So he turned to Venom."

"It has changed him so much, sir," said Alfred. "I fear his mind may nearly be gone. He has even stopped wearing his costume and has reduced himself to dressing in merely a trench coat and assaulting hoodlums."

Suddenly I realize why Alfred had called me and not Dick or Barbara. I'm the only one around him who is an equal. Alfred, Dick and Barbara are subordinates. It isn't their "place" to tell him to stop his destructive behavior.

"Alfred," I said. "I'll get him to stop."

"Thank you, sir."

"It won't be easy – you know how stubborn he can be."

"More than you can imagine, sir."

"I'll be back in a few hours – with Bruce."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

You have no idea how hard it is to find a crazed man in a trench coat in Gotham City.

But then, I'm not the detective that Bruce is.

About thirty minutes into my search, I found him. It looked like he had just finished a street brawl. Everyone but Bruce was unconscious.

I could barely recognize him. He was a wreck. The man who was once one of the greatest heroes in the world was now about twice his normal size and wearing a trench coat about two sizes too small. I figured now was as good a time as any to confront him.

"Just what is the matter with you?" I asked as I flew down to a hover.

He looked up at me and I heard a voice come from under the fedora hat he was wearing.

"Go away, Clark." he said. "I'm working."

"Really." I said. "I had always assumed that Batman wore a costume."

"I don't need this now," he said. "I have work to do and crime to fight."

"Bruce, you need help." I said as I began the speech I had practiced for the past hour or so. "You can't keep using this Venom drug to— "

I was interrupted by something that I could only describe as some sort of primal howl.

Bruce had screamed as he grabbed a nearby garbage dumpster.

"LEAVE…ME…ALONE" he howled. 

That's when he threw the trash bin towards me.

I turned my back to Bruce as the projectile zoomed over my head. I flew up to catch it and set it up on the roof.

I chuckled to myself.

"Well Bruce," I said. "You certainly have the power you wanted."

I turned around to see Bruce collapsed on the ground.

I flew down and approached him.

He was nearly in tears as he spoke.

"I couldn't save her," he mumbled.

"I know." I said. "Its OK, Bruce."

"…wasn't strong enough."

"Let me take you home."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

As soon as I flew into the manor Alfred appeared with a tray of bandages and antiseptics. 

Something about it seemed routine.

I looked down at the older man from my hover position.

"Alfred," I said. "Where would y—"

"You may take Master Bruce upstairs and lay him on his bed."

"OK, would you like me to help y—"

"Superman, I need no assistance with his bandages." 

One part butler, one part nurse, one part telepath…

Alfred worked with a stunning precision. I was amazed, but not surprised.

I guess you'd have to be a regular renaissance man to work for Batman.

It took Alfred about twenty minutes to dress and bandage Bruce's wounds.

I offered to get Alfred a cup of tea, and in the amount of time it took for me to fix a cup of Chamomile Tea with a lump of sugar, he had Bruce tucked into bed and wearing pajamas.

I didn't even know Armani made pajamas.

Alfred, visibly exhausted, retired for the evening. 

Bruce regained consciousness about five minutes later. Dazed, he slowly ran his fingers through his hair and shook the cobwebs from his head.

"Clark?"

I grabbed a chair from his desk and sat down next to his bed.

"Good morning Mr. Wayne," I said, applying the greatest amount of sarcasm possible. "Do you mind telling me what ever possessed you to start taking steroids?"

"How could you possibly understand?"

I hate it when people answer a question with a question.

"Seriously, Bruce. Why?"

"Have you ever tried to save someone's life and fail, Clark?" He began. "I honestly don't think you have. I have strived for over twenty years to hone my body to perfection and I still failed. A little girl is dead because I wasn't strong enough."

"That doesn't sound like an excuse to start shooting up with experimental steroids."

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

He glared at me with his patented "strike-fear-into-the-hearts-of-evil" dirty look.

"You have power."

Damn, I was afraid he'd do this…

"Even I have limitations, Bruce. I have failed before and that's part of the job. We are to learn from our mistakes." 

"I don't like mistakes."

"Heroes are supposed to set an example. We are role models."

"I became a hero to avenge my parents, not to have people look up to me."

In retrospect, I should have known better than to try and debate with Batman. 

"Heroes don't use drugs."

Now it was his turn to be sarcastic.

"Really, Clark," he said. "I wonder what Hourman would have to say about that?"

For those of you who don't know, Rex Tyler became a superhero because a pill called Miraclo gave him superpowers for one hour. Addicted to Miraclo for many years, Rex ruined his family life and neglected his company. Miraclo even indirectly caused the death of his son. 

So there's no way in hell I'm going to let him get by with an Hourman defense.

"Rex was never able to fully shake his addiction to Miraclo. Is that what you want to be like? Assuming Venom won't kill you in the next year, do you want to live the rest of your life addicted to it?"

"This is helping my war on crime."

"No it isn't," I replied. "You are far more valuable to the superhero community as a detective, not as a brainless muscleman."

"I need strength to—"

At this point I started to lose my patience.

"Damn it, Bruce, this drug has changed you! I didn't find Batman in the alley; I found a deranged freak in a trench coat. You're not even a detective anymore."

I couldn't even tell if he was paying attention anymore. His eyes seemed to wander to the window.

"It's still night outside, Clark," he said. "I should be working."

"You won't be going back out tonight, Bruce," I retorted. "I'm not going to allow you to go back to 'work' until you kick this addiction"

Bruce visibly became angered. He rarely allows anything to get in the way of his work.

"Get out of my house, Clark," he said, staring into me. "Don't make me go get the Kryptonite."

I stood up and met his gaze. 

"You've become too violent and I'm afraid I can't let you back out there."

He shot another "I-am-vengeance" dirty look.

"The Cave, twenty minutes."

He sat up and began getting dressed. I sat in the chair, perplexed, and trying to figure out what he meant by his last statement.

Then it hit me like a ton of kryptonite.

"You can't be serious," I chortled. "I don't want to—"

"Nothing gets in the way of my work, Clark. If that means I have to take you out, so be it."

Oh my God. He's serious. 

"You're insane!" I told him.

"**Cave…**Twenty**!"**

I left the room and walked over to Alfred's room.

As much as I hated to wake him, I opened the door and peered inside.

"Alfred!" I said quietly.

He sat up in bed and reached for the light.

"Any luck, Mr. Kent?" he asked.

For some reason, I couldn't find the words explain what happened.

Luckily, I didn't have to.

He looked at me and rolled his eyes.

Seriously, the man is telepathic.

Alfred got out of bed and sighed.

"I'd better get more bandages."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

To be completely honest, I didn't want to fight Batman.

I suppose now, in retrospect, I should have known better than to even accept his challenge.

I should have knocked him unconscious and kept him in the Fortress for a month of two.

I could have asked Hal send him to Oa. I'm sure the Guardians could keep him under control for a little while.

I chuckled slightly to myself. Not a single option would work.

Bruce would have found a way to escape from the Fortress of Solitude, probably finding a way to dismantle my security system with a MacGyver-ed combination of a shoelace and a computer wire.

And he probably would have ambushed an unsuspecting Green Lantern and stolen his power ring.

And the last thing I needed was a drug-crazed Batman with a Green Lantern's power ring.

I sat in the library waiting for the grandfather that served as the entrance to the cave to show that twenty minutes had passed. While I was waiting, I began to worry.

I can't really explain it, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was a little nervous about fighting Bruce.

I know, I know… I'm Superman, and he has no powers.

Bruce has studied me. He knows my strengths, my weaknesses, my fighting skills, and my power levels. He knows everything he needs to know to destroy me.

But still, he isn't himself right now.

I couldn't handle the waiting any longer. I gazed up at the clock once more.

Five minutes left. Why not?

I stood up and walked over to the clock. I turned the hands of the clock until it read 10:47 and flew down the staircase to the Batcave's main floor.

I landed and looked over at the man who at once was of noble intentions, and I stood ready to fight.

"Are you ready, Clark?" he asked as he put on his under-sized trenchcoat.

He was wearing his Batman pants and his utility belt. He pulled out a Batarang.

I nodded.

"Then come and get it!"

I figured it would be best to end it quickly, so I flew towards him. He threw the Batarang towards me while I was in the air.

I tried to use my heat vision to deflect the projectile, but it suddenly quit working. The Batarang continued its path until it hit my shoulder. I soon became nauseated and felt intense pain all throughout my body. I fell to the cold ground of the Batcave. 

Bruce smiled with satisfaction.

"It only takes a little bit doesn't it, Clark?"

Kryptonite. I should have guessed.

He calmly walked towards me and picked up the projectile that had landed near my feet. "I hid a small amount of Kryptonite in this Batarang," said Bruce, triumphantly.

He sat down next to me and began to play with the Kryptonite filled Batarang, twirling it between his fingers.

He smiled as he looked down on me.

"I had figured you would expect Kryptonite in our little fight, so I thought I'd hide some from you…"

I actually expected him to fight fairly…

My muscles tightened in pain. Bruce placed the small rock of Kryptonite about fifteen feet away from me—non-lethal range, but still rather painful.

With all my remaining strength, I pressed the alert button on my Justice League communicator.

As I blacked out, I saw Bruce throw a few pills into his mouth and exit the Cave.


End file.
